


Sex on the Beach

by prodigalsanyo



Series: Cocktales [2]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Beach Sex, Consensual Sex, Creampie, Group Sex, M/M, Military Uniforms, Multi, Public Sex, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26630779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: Part 2 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series.  During Spring Break Florida vacation with college friends, Malcolm encounters soldiers on three days leave. Wildly consensual Brimel.Fic may be read as stand alone Brimel or as a continuation of "A Short Trip to Hell" Part 1 of 3 in the "Cocktales" series.  Brightly incest elements are hinted/implied/mentioned.  No graphic incest.-Sex on the Beach, Drink Recipe:  Fill a glass with ice and add vodka, peach schnapps, and orange juice. Pour cranberry juice over. Garnish with an orange wedge and give it to me, baby baby.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Vijay Chandasara, Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara
Series: Cocktales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937263
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Vijay almost dies from a prescription opioid overdose during their Spring Break vacation in Orlando, Florida. Fortunately, Malcolm’s father Doctor Whitly was also in Orlando for a medical conference as a guest lecturer. While Malcolm and his friends lodged in the Whitly family’s Orlando vacation timeshare, Doctor Whitly stayed in an upscale hotel convenient to the nightlife. Doctor Whitly opened his hotel room to both Malcolm and Vijay before saving Vijay’s life. 

After an unbelievable night, Doctor Whitly leaves his hotel room for another day of presentations. Malcolm orders room service and monitors care for his friend. Malcolm’s anger dissipates when Vijay wakes up in Doctor Whitly’s hotel room. He is beyond relieved to see his long-time friend alive and belly aching.

“Crack the windows, Whitly. Smells like ass in here,” whines Vijay. “Did we do it?”

“You were in no state to do anything. I definitely didn’t take advantage,” says Malcolm.

Vijay peeks at him from under the twisted pillow. “Sucks for you. I’m the best damn night you didn’t have.” He throws the pillow at Malcolm, who almost sobs a laugh.

“For what it’s worth, you did get me laid,” says Malcolm.

“Good for you, Whitly. You frickin needed it. Be happy!” says Vijay. He licks the inside of his mouth distastefully. “Ugh, get me vitamin water, stat.”

After a couple swigs of artisanal water and aspirin, Vijay sits up. “Dude. Where the fuck are we? Did you get fucked in this room? And you left me on the fucking floor?!”

In lieu of answering, Malcolm yanks the drapes and floods the room with sunlight. Vijay takes cover under sheets and pillow before he grumbles accusingly, “Not cool, man. Tryna kill me!”

* * *

Malcolm leaves his eReader in the Orlando timeshare when he and his friends head out to Cocoa Beach. Because Malcolm’s college dorm mate Liam ditches them, their party of five relax into a comfortable drive, without too many guys smooshed in the backseat of their yellow jeep. Cal, who is his other dorm mate, brings Liam’s pink hognose snake, Sunshine, to the beach for Liam for whenever Liam rejoins their group. 

The ocean breeze offsets the hot sun although the tip of Malcolm’s nose itches before he can get aloe gel on it. While all of them have gone on overseas vacations with their families, they are overwhelmed by the magnitude of many, many options without any parents or younger siblings.

Malcolm goes for a swim while his stomach is relatively empty. He comes out to relieve Jin who guards their beach blankets. Jin’s handycam records a sea of legs and ass while Vijay returns with cold drinks.

“Watch your alcohol intake,” says Malcolm. He might as well urge lightning into a bottle.

“I’m having the lite beer. Don’t have a cow,” says Vijay, passing around mixed cocktails. “The rest of you get trashed for me.”

After two sips, Malcolm decides to order fried mozzarella sticks to soak up his cocktail. While he’s waiting for pick-up under a thatched restaurant, a fine young black man strikes up conversation. Seth Powell, 23, NYU law school. His mustache and chin hairs are clipped by a barber, framing his jaw with crisp lines. He keeps his coarse black hair buzzed short.

“Cambridge, that’s up there! Do you miss the city ever?” says Seth, for small talk.

“I miss my friends who stayed for school,” answers Malcolm. “We were lucky this semester because our break is on the same week.”

“You’re with your homies this trip? That is awesome. I was just happy that I could get away with my squad,” says Seth. “My family helped buy my ticket but I had to negotiate for it. Worth it, though. How long is your stay?”

“Counting today, four in total,” says Malcolm.

“Four days, right?” inquires Seth.

“Including the day I fly out, yes. I’m rounding up,” says Malcolm.

“For a sec, I thought you were going to say four hours,” says Seth. “How old are you?”

“Twenty one,” says Malcolm.

“Are you rounding up again?” says Seth. He leans on the tiki counter, his elbow brushing Malcolm’s arm. “It’s not a problem for me, if you let me treat you to a few drinks.”

It's not the first or last time that someone thinks Malcolm is younger than his actual age.

“I’m a lightweight. It takes one for me,” replies Malcolm.

“Have a drink with me later when you’re not with your homies. I wouldn’t mind one now, but my peeps… Goddamn it.” Seth’s tone abruptly changes. He turns his body, cups his mouth. “Ayo! Danny!”

Malcolm is surprised when a slim black chick with cornrows struts toward them in a white string bikini with a frosted beer bottle and a lime wedge in her hand. She is much lighter in skin tone than Seth.

“What up, Cuz?” says Danny.

“Where your clothes at? And what in hell you think you’re doing with that?!” says Seth.

“Drinks is paid for,” says Danny. She waves at a couple of latin men. Her rounded breasts sway in the skimpy white triangles which barely cover her plum areolas.

“She’s fifteen, hombres!” Seth yells. “¡Quince años!” Flashing ten and then five fingers. 

“Dang it, Cuz. They were nice!” scowls Danny when her new friends take a hike on the sand.

Seth confiscates the beer. “This my cousin Dani. Short for Danielle you’re fifteen and you’re an idiot,” says Seth. “Say hi to Malcolm.”

“Hi Dani! Nice to meet you,” says Malcolm. Somehow when Malcolm shakes hands, Seth slips him her chilled beer.

“I had to bring her with me. Parental stipulation,” explains Seth.

“Whitlyyyyyyy…!” shouts Vijay. He jogs over and almost flops onto the counter, his swim trunks riding low. “If I don’t get nom noms right this second, my stomach will collapse into a black hole and I’ll take you fuckers with me.”

Vijay notices Dani and raises himself up from the pick-up counter. He smiles big and stretches in a way that draws attention to his beautiful brown bod. “Hey ma, what’s up?”

“This is Seth and Dani. They’re from New York, too,” says Malcolm.

“Vijay Chandasara. Are you with him?” asks Vijay.

Dani shakes her head. “Nah, he my Cuz. I don’t got a boyfriend.”

“Really? Do you guys smoke? Maybe we should party,” says Vijay.

Malcolm slides over his fried mozzarella sticks which shuts Vijay up for a hot second but he is not quick enough. Seth’s head tilts, his eyes crease, and his chin raises. “Chandasara?”

“Do I know you, guy?” says Vijay, his smile losing a bit of freshness.

“Are you related to any notable Chandasaras?” asks Seth.

“I’m Indian. I have… a lot of relatives,” says Vijay.

“But was one of them busted for trafficking 10 mil cocaine on the Hudson?” retorts Seth.

“Uh uh. Seth, you take a break from saving the world,” says Dani.

Seth does not take a break. “Your daddy feeds the disease in our community, all over this country. I take my cousin, who is a minor below the age of consent, by the way, all the way to Florida. We leave our neighborhood and we run into another dealer tryna hook my cousin on crack. She will not be having any of your drugs, thank you very much!”

“Cuz, chill,” says Dani, jerking her arm out of Seth’s hand hold. 

Seth gets in front of Dani, stands in Vijay’s face. “I worked for my ticket to these _white_ beaches and I will enjoy my time here lawfully.”

“I wasn’t offering her crack, FYI. A little 420, damn. And if I knew she was in high school. Definitely not,” says Vijay. “Crack is whack.”

“Uh huh. Crack is cheap. But if caine is king, then I say ‘Death to the monarchy.’” A cold sneer twists Seth’s handsome features when Vijay fish mouths. 

“Excuse you. My friend is not a drug dealer! How dare you presume?!” speaks up Malcolm. He thrusts out the chilled beer. “You can take this back. I do not accept it.”

“Eh, you can have that drink, Mr. Whitly. Enjoy your vacay,” says Seth in parting. Seth takes Dani by her wrist.

“Cuz!” whines Dani as Seth drags her.

“Shit,” says Vijay.

“Hey! Vijay. Hey,” says Malcolm. He sets down the beer which is sweating. He has no intention to drink it. “Your father? Not in jail anymore.”

“Malcolm, buddy. Your parents aren’t separated. Your dad is a renowned surgeon, not some dirty crook. You keep living that good life. Instead of telling me how I should handle my semi-charmed kind of bullshit.” Vijay rubs at his black goatee and licks his lips, taking strong breaths. 

“You’re right, Vijay. If circumstances were different, I would be in your shoes. Maybe worse,” says Malcolm.

“I know you love me, baby boy. Let’s get slizzard,” suggests Vijay. He slides the less-than-chill beer into an open receptacle. He bats it down like a cat swiping its paw. “With better crap than Budweiser. We are above that!”

* * *

Vijay, Jin, and Javier get a salty welcome at The Stud dive bar. The Stud is managed by a guy who everyone calls Hootie. Actual taxidermy dried puffer fish hang as spiny inflated lamps over the bar counter. The dynamic trio in their party of six--Vijay, Javier, and Jin-- lick salt off of waitress boobs before each he-man knocks back a row of tequila shots, going from top shelf to bottom dregs. Javier catches limey kisses while Vijay and Jin try to squirt limes into each other’s mouths.

“I got salt down my underpants. Underpants!” giggles Jin. With the prohibition on recording devices inside the bar, Jin gets drunk off tits.

“The seat is malted…” Vijay corrects himself before howling, “The meat is salted!! Who want some?”

“Who want some wang??” shouts Jin, cracking up.

Team Harvard (Malcolm, Liam, and Cal) are not having as much big fun on single-hops craft beer. Liam gets banned from The Stud when his pinkie pie snakey poo Sunshine warms up on an Asian chick’s thigh.

“Snake!” screams the Asian chick with the top section of her hair tied in pigtails. Loose sections of hair stop at her chin. Her pigtails bob as she frantically waves her hands. Her arms are covered with thin orange and black jelly bracelets hooked together.

“Liam,” huffs Malcolm. He soothes the frightened young Asian woman by asking questions. “Hey there. Hi, I’m Malcolm. Can I help you? What’s your name?”

Her jaws are clenched in outright terror. When she musters a breath, her chest heaves once and then stills, paralyzed beneath her Johns Hopkins T-shirt. “Ed. Edrisa. Please.”

“Circumstances notwithstanding, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. What you have there is a Western hognose snake. See how her snout is upturned like a piglet? The rostral scale is an adaptation for burrowing. While her venom contains irritants, she’s more of a danger to Mickey Mouse than to you, Edrisa. Although if this cutie sees Mushu the dragon, she would much rather eat him alive.”

“Mushu? No, not Mushu. I would literally die for him,” says Edrisa.

“No need for you to go to extremes. She does not bite,” reassures Malcolm. “If I may, please don’t slap me…”

He trails off before sticking his hand up Edrisa’s shorts. Malcolm boops the snoot. Recognizing the touch as an assault on her serpentine well-being, Sunshine seizes up dramatically before thumping the floor like a stiff rope of pink taffy.

“When threatened, this piglet will play possum,” explains Malcolm.

Malcolm earns himself a boisterous glomp tackle by Edrisa. With awestruck, limpid eyes behind her glasses, Edrisa exclaims, “Why would you do something so incredibly brave, Malcolm? You saved me from the danger noodle!!”

One of Edrisa’s friends pulls her off of Malcolm. “Thanks, guy. C’mon, ‘drisa. I guess I can forget about you watching _Snakes on a Plane_ with me when it comes out.”

“It tried to enter my Chamber of Secrets!” squawks Edrisa as her friend steers her to the bar and offers to pick up the tab for her drinks.

Liam cradles Sunshine before he is escorted off the premises. Malcolm lobs the keys to the Jeep at Cal. His friends have the current keycode to the electronic lock as well as the wifi password to the Whitly timeshare. “Your turn to drive the drunk bus.”

“What? But, Malcolm. I only had a glass tonight,” sputters Cal.

Malcolm approaches Cal. “This is not me extorting a favor from you. I’m not asking or telling you to do anything. As your roommate, I’m letting you know that you talk when you’re relaxed past a certain point.” Malcolm observes how Cal wrings his hands before cupping it over his crotch.

“What are you talking about?” says Cal, swallowing with difficulty.

“The boat crash from years ago. Did she burn in the bonfire of vanities or did she sink like Ophelia?” Malcolm levels with his peer. He listened to Cal's paranoid rants fueled by Vijay's weed. By his own admission, Cal's girlfriend Isabella (the cook's underaged daughter, no less) had paid the ultimate price for Cal's drug impaired decision to operate the family's small yacht.

“Shut up, Malcolm,” says Cal, his skin blanched white. “Don’t you talk about Isabella like that.”

“I was talking about your family’s cabin cruiser. Who are you talking about?” says Malcolm.

“You’re full of it.” Cal jingles the keys to the yellow Jeep.

“Calvin,” says Malcolm.

“I’m going, I’m going. Your point is made,” gripes Cal, enmity shading his fair looks.

“This time when you get behind the wheel, it’s not going to be a disaster. Our fathers can expect us back in one piece,” says Malcolm.

Understanding passes between them as though they are brothers of a fraternal order founded on patriarchal clout.

“How much did you drink, Malcolm? I could’ve sworn you had one, same as me,” says Cal bemusedly.

“I had enough to make me honest,” states Malcolm. He goes inside The Stud for a round of darts as last resort entertainment. Billiards and shuffleboard tables are crowded by co-eds, frats, sorority girls, and even a few Army guys in their fatigues.

Seeing that Malcolm is separated from his Harvard dormies, Vijay loosens up the buttons of Malcolm’s Bermuda shirt striped with deep red and warm blues. Vijay pops the collar of his own coral red polo shirt and grabs Malcolm by the waistband, bumping his hip into Malcolm to The Whistle Song by Juelz Santana. 

“There it go, baby boy,” whispers Vijay. Whether he means to bite Malcolm’s ear or if it was a tipsy incident, the effect is the same. Malcolm snaps forward like he’s riding the beat and a blonde chick shoves his face into cleavage deeper than her spray tan. He gets a lick of salt before Vijay grabs his chin and pours down a shot. Another spray tan chick with glossy black straight iron hair smears a lime over Malcolm’s lips. She turns him around and the three of them dip low. An ass slap from Vijay knocks the lime wedge from Malcolm’s teeth. “I can’t believe we never shared a girl before this,” laughs Vijay.

Girls steal the shirt off Malcolm’s back as well as a few citrus kisses. Though his fuzzy navel keeps the girls from drinking shots off of him, Malcolm is gently arrested by mounds of breast or ass and small fragrant hands inviting him for smooth drinks off of their smooth stomachs. They easily bounce him to chrome poles shining dull after many hands.

Malcolm gets carried away when he hops onto the pole. Watching the girls sloppily grind together while circling the pole sparks his exhibitionist impulses. He ditches his beige suede moccasins. Malcolm cashes in on five years of classical ballet, a semester of pole dancing classes, and ongoing aerial yoga sessions which entail a silken hammock and upside down poses. The pole clangs and shakes as he throws his weight around, but Malcolm keeps himself suspended, the high arches of his pointed feet squeaking on metal.

Too many faces he wants to forget cycle through his mind’s eye, but as Malcolm twirls and swoops and kicks out to perpetuate his dance, he focuses on the rush of spiked blood to his head and the soreness within his body that screams for attention, punitive or rewarding.

Vijay’s head is tipped back as a pretty young thing tongues his Adam’s apple for the salt of his brown skin. Vijay’s mouth hangs open and Malcolm wants to yell at Vijay to shut his mouth if he doesn’t want to catch more fruit flies. Malcolm catches Vijay’s eyes which send him into another addictive spiral. Malcolm pulls the metal snaps fastening the waistband of his shorts and he winks as the shorts slip down to reveal his tan line. One of the girls who are main lining his tequila flow pantses Malcolm. Malcolm slips but gamely inverts himself, his bare legs spreading in a slow aerial split before he regroups and flutters down, tensing his glutes until his cheeks clap beneath his navy briefs. He goes down like London, London London, with Fergie Ferg and me love you long time (oh shit). 

The ocean breeze cools his hot neck as does the metal bar unyielding against his hairy torso and partial hard-on. Malcolm flips backward and eases into a headstand before he unhooks his ankles from the pole. He can do it with his eyes closed, or in this case, with his sunblock and sweat dampened hair stinging and tickling his eyes. Then he gets into downward dog and raises himself right side up with a campy flourish of jazz hands.

Malcolm gets his shorts thrown in his face and he sportingly tags out for another hot body to fill the spotlight. The tequila bites him then and he is saved from hitting the floor by a perfect stranger who goes “Ho shit!”

Todd is 5’ 9” and about 170 lbs quaking nervously in his combat boots, with a shiny chin receding into his sunburnt and over awed oblong face as Malcolm teases him. Due to the combat uniform more so than for Todd’s personal charms, Malcolm splays his hand over the camouflage jacket, stroking Todd’s nametape on the uniform’s right side. “Buy me a drink, soldier? I’ll pay you back very personally, if you want.”

“Meep.”

“Simmer down, Toddy. You’re disgracing what it means to be us,” says another soldier who makes Todd look like the Pillsbury dough boy. His nametape reads MARSH. The larger soldier is 6’ 4” and over 200 lbs of Scots-Irish tough guy. His blue eyes are vibrant though they’re tucked into narrow slits purpled by rough sleep. He bears the trademark ginger hair. Marsh could be eighteen or thirty. His clipped red hair, curled at his temple and stiffly parted on the right, as well as his round cleft chin, advertises Catholic school boy. However, Marsh’s pear shape face stretches over a thick neck already scruffy with ginger roots liable to explode into Viking beardy proportions.

“Oy, quit being a chickenshit, Todd. Do him or don’t,” says another soldier, last name GERARD. He’s definitely the youngest and best-looking in the bunch. Poreless Scandinavian complexion, raven colored hair, and green eyes. Gerard looks like a lean 170 lbs and glowers a couple inches taller than Malcolm as he scratches the tip of his pointed ear. Malcolm thinks that Gerard has Stahl’s ear, a minor deformity of the upper ear which renders Gerard more elven looking. But Gerard’s stiff lip, guarded stand off and wide nostrils suggest a hair trigger temper. 

A thrill chases up Malcolm’s spine when Gerard’s eyes flick over him, seemingly dismissive until Gerard shifts balance and his toes point at Malcolm, a nonverbal indicator of attraction.

“I could ruin you, if you pass on a nice guy like Todd over there,” offers Gerard. “Or you can make my top happy and give him the time of day.” He jabs his thumb at red headed Marsh whose rank (displayed on a beige patch centered on the jacket) bear more chevrons than Gerard.

“No harm done or offense taken if you like them pretty as a bitch,” retorts Marsh, gesturing at Gerard. “I’m a better night than I look.”

“Better put on the big beer goggles. Or at least put your clothes back on, little boy.”

“Har har, JT,” intones Marsh humorlessly.

“In the immortal words of Bart Simpson, you can eat my shorts,” says Malcolm before he turns to the fourth soldier who joins his comrades.

He mentally demotes Gerard as the best looking soldier when his blue eyes skim over the bolded name TARMEL and land squarely on the first man he would go home with, drinks or not. At 6’ in height and weighing in around 185 lb, JT isn’t as tall or broad as Marsh but Malcolm would pick light caramel over heavy ginger every night of the week. Malcolm prefers the irreverent smile on JT’s wide and full lips which bunches his cheeks and warms his brown eyes. JT must be on the other end of his 20s with his spirit miraculously uncrushed.

“Hey guys, um, are you going to get back to the pool table or can we cue up for a game?” says a girl in a star spangled bikini and daisy dukes. Her friends, boys and girls, are already leaning onto the billiards table. She talks to Marsh who’s the biggest.

“Here ya go baby,” says JT. He gives over his pool cue. The girl in daisy dukes smooches JT’s cheek and her friends set their drinks down on the billiards table.

“You only gave up our table because you’re in the lead,” grumbles Gerard.

“I’ll treat you to a couple pints,” says JT, good-humoredly.

“With the money you won off of me,” retorts Gerard.

“Which you duped off of Toddmeister. Don’t throw a hissy fit,” says JT. “Besides, we were just warming up until _someone_ distracted us.”

Malcolm looks up from his cell phone which he fished out of his shorts. He gets hot from the group of men openly appreciating his near nudity. “Ah. Hi, I’m Malcolm.”

“Eyes on you, Malcolm. This is the part where you take your pick,” says Marsh. His tone is more blunt than playful. “I would make it quick. You’re keeping Toddy on edge.”

“Or are you just a teaser?” adds Gerard.

“You guys shouldn’t pressure him if he doesn’t want it,” says Todd.

“I can do whatever the fuck. It’s my leave,” disagrees Gerard. “Pick a dick, slick.”

JT’s grin broadens when Malcolm slinks toward him.

“Buy me a drink, Jeffy,” says Malcolm. The warped floorboards are gritty from sand and feel a bit sticky under his feet. His fist bunches in the shorts he has yet to put back on. 

“Who the fuck is Jeffy?” says JT.

“What’s the J for in JT?” asks Malcolm. “Jamie, John, Jean-Luc? Or maybe you’re Jack, as in the Ripper?”

“Don’t look at me, lad. It’s a military secret,” says Marsh to Malcolm. He claps JT’s shoulder and hangs around the billiards table when Daisy Dukes invites Marsh to join. Gerard and Todd aren’t inclined either to break rank and divulge JT’s true identity.

“Scram. You lost. And get Todd a few rounds, help him shore up.” JT throws a few bills at Gerard. Gerard rolls his eyes but he and Todd hit up the bar for consolation drinks.

JT looks confused when Malcolm tosses the clothes near JT’s boots.

“Watch my stuff, Jimmy,” says Malcolm, licking his teeth at JT’s nonplussed expression.

“I have to find my friends and tell them not to look for me,” explains Malcolm. “I’ll be back for my shorts.”

“Going for the whole night? What’s your dude’s name?” yells Vijay.

“No idea! He’s military,” elaborates Malcolm.

“Gimme the keys!” yells Vijay.

“Cal took them. Just get a taxi,” says Malcolm when Vijay looks bummed. Vijay doesn’t stay down for too long because he and Javier get plenty of interest.

“Okay, go get ‘em tiger,” says Vijay. He pats Malcolm’s ass for luck.

Malcolm spots JT slipping a large hand out of the pockets of Malcolm’s shorts. The soldier’s upper body is hunched and rotated to conceal his hands.

“Anything I can get for you?” asks Malcolm when JT hands him back his clothes. Malcolm’s shirt is gone but a cursory pat down assures him that his Motorola phone and money clip are secure. 

“I’m good. You?” replies JT.

Malcolm pulls out his money clip which is in order with cash and ID: NY drivers license and Harvard ID. Malcolm reclaims his debit card when he pays his tab.

“I didn’t want to get a drivers’ license but my dad insisted. I can go months without driving, between our chauffeur and taxis. I didn’t bring a car with me to school either because it would’ve been an inconvenience to move it during snow.” Malcolm flashes his ID at JT. “I’m legal, by the way. My real name is Malcolm. Are you sure there isn’t anything you’d like from me?”

“Oh, you saw,” says JT. “I didn’t take nothing. Shit.”

“You have leverage,” pouts Malcolm. “You know more about me than I do you. Is that how you prefer things when you deal with people? Or is it just prospective partners?”

“I shouldn’t have been nosy,” admits JT. “But c’mon. You pop up out of nowhere looking like you do, bust some moves, and yeah, I see you come from money.”

JT rubs his chin and smiles before dropping his face. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t quicker.”

“You took a moderate risk and tipped your hand. You're very interested in me,” agrees Malcolm. The camouflage jacket feels unfamiliar, too dry, and unnaturally textured from chemical treatment when he steps inside JT’s personal bubble. Yet the stiff and impersonal sensation of the fabric heightens his awareness of JT. “I’m afraid my pedigree wouldn’t tell you what I’m really like.”

“You’re a young thing,” says JT. “I don’t believe you’re 5’ 7”. Maybe it’s your baby face. Leggy, too. Your legs will look good.”

“They don’t impress you now?” asks Malcolm. “My dance teacher thought my lines were better than expected for my unfortunate stature.”

“I saw them. I do like the way you move,” says JT. 

Malcolm stands on the balls of his feet, breathless, when JT grips his ass with unaffected strength. JT’s hand pushing up on his glutes raises Malcolm’s soles from the floor.

“Your legs will look good if I were to, say, pick you up, flip you, and choke you out,” says JT.

They don’t kiss and make out on the cab ride from The Stud to the vacation house where Todd and company are staying. However, Malcolm sits on JT’s palm, his flushed face staring out of the cab’s window to avoid making eye contact with the driver. Malcolm’s shorts stretch tight with JT wrist deep in the back of the waistband. Malcolm cups his bulging length as fingertips stroke behind his balls and tease his anus. His toes curl on the shoelaces of JT’s camel brown boots.

“Todd isn’t bad. His daddy is an officer. Probably how he managed to get leave during March madness. He invited us to hang out at his daddy’s beach house. Eager beaver. Place is fancy, maybe good enough for your ass,” says JT.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t care,” says Malcolm. He remembers how to breathe under duress. His wriggling makes JT’s fingers flick crueler teasing against his delicate skin. “Let’s don’t talk about your friend.”

Malcolm throws money at the cab driver, his palms clammy around the cash as JT strokes up his crevice.

JT shoves Malcolm into the blue painted door like he wants to nail Malcolm right there. His hand rests on top of Malcolm’s sweaty brown hair, yanking the strands to turn Malcolm’s head as he kisses Malcolm's throat. Malcolm gets a death grip on JT’s shoulders, using the pressure on his back to shimmy up JT’s torso and wrap his legs around the firm swell of JT’s thick ass.

Malcolm’s ass falls out of his shorts, sticking to the blue door. JT grips his butt cheeks with both hands, squeezing so hard that Malcolm’s mouth flies open from the sudden deep muscle pain when JT takes his lips. JT’s uniform chafes his thighs. Malcolm feels like he’s been snatched out of the air; his heels never touch earth. JT throws Malcolm over his shoulder and spanks Malcolm before his shorts drop. JT marches past the threshold, boots kicking discarded clothes and belongings inside.

JT rips apart the velcro and then the zipper of his combat jacket before Malcolm’s world tilts. Malcolm’s hair hangs down as he noses into the tan colored T-shirt covering JT’s rounded abdomen and he paws at the belt looped above three buttons on the uniform trousers. JT spanks him again, a stinging blow which whips more blood to Malcolm’s head; Malcolm’s legs kick, but JT doesn’t let him get away. He is hooked by JT’s strength. Awed by his massive towering physique.

With his head swimming and mouth watering, Malcolm relaxes into free fall. JT is blessedly thick, almost the girth of two cocks. Malcolm needs both hands when he opens wide for eight inches. He breathes through his nostrils and ignores the cramp in his jaw and the discomfort of curling his lips to tuck in his teeth.

“Shittin’ damn,” groans JT as Malcolm puckers up. 

Malcolm gets his first taste of revenge, each merciless tease from JT in the cab ride translating into a slow working of Malcolm’s lips and air sucked through his teeth to entice JT’s flesh without wholly surrendering to full throttle cock worship.

Then JT splits Malcolm’s legs open, hands grasping the mounds of his ass and swallows Malcolm’s prick right down to the hilt. JT's shaven chin presses his groin. Thrums of pleasure opens Malcolm’s throat. He gurgles a scream and feels the limey salt sweet burn of drink. Malcolm pops off and focuses on JT heavy in his hand and pulsing on the tip of Malcolm’s tongue. Malcolm reigns in his breath before, ass over head, he helplessly sucks off JT who skull fucks him. Each hard pump splits Malcolm’s lips and stings his delicate pink skin parched from the tequila shots. Malcolm clutches at the combat uniform. JT fills out his trousers so good that Malcolm’s grasp barely dents his muscle.

“Shit, oh shit, no shit,” curses JT. He grabs Malcolm’s hips and lifts him. Malcolm's stubbled chin scrapes JT’s hip. Malcolm’s tongue drags over the curly patches bunched around the base of JT’s cock. When Malcolm’s elbow bumps furniture, he yelps. 

JT puts him on a leather sectional. He gently bends Malcolm’s arm a few times and massages the boo boo. “My bad, baby. I didn’t want it over. Wanna nut inside you. Turn you out the next seventy two hours.”

Malcolm licks his mouth and tastes blood from his chapped lips. “Why seventy two, specifically?”

“We are on three days leave and then command ships us out to Kabul next month,” says JT, a slight rasp from the need for water. His dog tags clink as his tan colored shirt drops to the area rug. “It’ll be a minute before I get me another piece of creampie.”

Malcolm licks his thumb and pinches at JT’s nipple, palming at JT’s muscular bulk. 

“Whaddya say to that?”

“I’m going to fuck you like you’re off to war,” says Malcolm. He sucks his fingers, makes it messy over his swollen and lightly bleeding lips, before he rubs the head of his prick. He brings his hand back to his lips, licking the pre-come mixed with a little bit of blood.

“Fuck. I’mma run and get lube from my pack. You wanna take this to bed?” says JT.

“Fuck me here,” says Malcolm.

“You don’t mind giving my buddies a show then,” says JT. He stares at Malcolm spreading for him. “Of course you don’t. Keep playing with yourself.”

Malcolm dips his middle finger inside his ass up to his second knuckle when JT marches back into the living room stripped naked except for his tags. He’s a whole head taller than Malcolm. JT’s face and arms are more tanned than his long legs and broad torso. From endless suit fittings, Malcolm knows his own biceps measure 13” and he estimates that JT’s biceps are about 15”.

“I don’t have the nicest shit,” says JT. He tosses a small plastic bottle onto the glass top coffee table, thumb warming the lube on his palm. 

“I don’t want nice,” says Malcolm. Malcolm’s ass squeezes around his fingers when JT wraps a hot hand around Malcolm’s cock. JT only needs one lubed hand to squeeze Malcolm’s entire length. JT is easily the largest man to touch Malcolm. Malcolm enjoys the contrast of his pale cock fucking into JT’s hand golden brown from military duties. Once more they kiss. 

JT puts him on a decorative pillow cushion which hikes up Malcolm's ass. Malcolm's chest, already reddened by sun exposure, flushes more obviously as JT raises Malcolm's legs, looking like he wants to eat Malcolm alive.

"I haven't stroked off for almost seven days. Been saving it up," says JT. He takes Malcolm's hand, makes him feel how full his balls are.

"Oh my God," says Malcolm. He can't wrap his fingers the whole way around the base of JT's cock.

"All for you, little boy," promises JT. "Unless you want condoms? I do have rubbers but I'm backed up like fuck. Some jizz will leak out of them little baggies."

"I don't want rubbers," says Malcolm. "I want to feel it when you come."

"I'll have to blow you open first," says JT. He slowly pushes in one slick finger, adds another with Malcolm wriggling for more. Malcolm's cock jerks abruptly when three digits hotly press a very sensitive area.

Malcolm grabs JT’s incredibly large arm, mouth falling open, wailing when four of JT’s fingers slide into his hole and JT flexes his fingers wide. JT grips the back of Malcolm's leg so hard that Malcolm can't move. JT folds Malcolm in half and sinks his knuckles firmly, blowing open Malcolm's rim like JT said he would. Copious amounts of lube soothe the burning but the invasive sensation runs so deep that Malcolm sobers up. Malcolm's body contracts and he bites his hand, shoulders twitching, panting out of control, and tears running down his face.

JT's touch is heavy but good as he rubs Malcolm's side and plays with Malcolm's nipples. "You're doing good, baby. Endure it. You've got it. Almost there. You feel hot."

Malcolm sucks in a breath, feeling another scream build. JT pops a hard smack on Malcolm's ass and pushes his furled hand to its thickest width. A pained cry falls from Malcolm's trembling lips. Malcolm rips at his sweaty brown hair, focusing on the sharp tug on his roots.

"Malcolm?" JT slows, but thankfully doesn't pull out.

"Please! Keep it right there," begs Malcolm. He tugs at the head of his cock, starting with a desperate pace to match the intensity of JT breaking him in. When Malcolm feels like he's close to coming, he squeezes the base of his cock, thinks about the most mind numbing school seminar, and reels himself back.

"Fuck yeah, Malcolm. Put your hand on your ass. Feel it. Fuck," says JT with an amazed expression. "You're right there, baby. Can you feel?"

Malcolm doesn't believe it until he hesitantly traces JT's forearm, lower and lower, and comes to a stop on the lube smeared on his ass. His rim feels thin and soft and sticky against the joint of JT's bent wrist. The pads of Malcolm's fingers settle on JT's pulse.

Malcolm squeezes his dick again and throws his arms over his eyes. "I almost came. I don't want to come. I don't want to come."

"You want my cock, don't you, baby?" surmises JT.

"God, yes. I want to sit on it. Make me sit on it," says Malcolm.

JT loops his arm around Malcolm's buttocks and helps him sit up. Malcolm's weight falls squarely on JT's hand buried inside him as JT lifts him up, unsticking Malcolm from the leather upholstery, and effortlessly brings Malcolm onto his lap.

Malcolm comes, gushes all over his happy trail, his clipped nails digging into JT's firm upper back, knees dipping into the cushioned leather, shins hanging off. No sooner does Malcolm whine from the loss of JT's hand inside him does JT line up his thick cock. Malcolm is soft and relaxed when JT goes in hard.

Malcolm tears up again as JT takes him with his cock. He bites back a sob and clamps his teeth onto JT's shoulder. Malcolm doesn't break the skin, but JT grabs his hair with a sticky filthy hand. He flattens Malcolm's tongue with two fingers and tells him to suck. The taste of his own cum surprises Malcolm. He cleans off JT's fingers and remembers not to bite even when JT thrusts. Malcolm yelps the first time JT grinds upward but he quickly regroups and bears down his muscles. He makes himself loose and relishes the surprise on JT's face. Malcolm smiles through his sweat and tears.

"Goddamn. I pounded pussy that wasn't as pretty as you," says JT. JT looks down when Malcolm's cock taps his abs. Malcolm isn't fully hard, but a knowing look smolders in JT's sharp eyes. "You like hearing how fucking good you look, don't you?"

"No," says Malcolm immediately.

JT raises his brow but then a slow grin overtakes his tan face.

"I was watching you," says JT.

"Oh yeah? Did you like it when I twerked on the poles?" says Malcolm.

"White boy booty clappin' is not something a soldier sees every day," agrees JT. He gets his hands over Malcolm's cheeks, rubbing and spreading them. "But you know what I really liked?"

Malcolm tilts his head, eyelashes fluttering, eyes rolling, strung out on eight inches filling him so good.

"I watched you stop all these drunk kids from stampeding out the bar over a snake. Then you made sure the fucktard who brought the snake had a ride," answers JT. "You are an exceptional hot piece of ass. It'll be my pleasure to fuck you raw."

"JT, you don't-- you don't know me."

"I saw you. I liked it. When I'm in barracks, I'll think about you taking my fat cock." JT clamps Malcolm's ass, slamming Malcolm down as he drives up his hips. Malcolm's breath puffs out like he's been punched. JT lifts him and once more the back of Malcolm's thighs slap against JT's enormous legs as they pound flesh.

"Relax baby. Don't go tight on me. You're what? A buck forty?" JT grunts as he bounces Malcolm in his lap as though Malcolm were light as a dream.

"JT," gasps Malcolm. His arms are pinned under JT's grip on his waist, helpless to do anything but hold on.

"Talk to me, baby."

"I can't--" Malcolm throws his head back, muffling another scream.

"Oh, just come already," says JT. He cups Malcolm's chin and intently watches Malcolm's bright blue eyes for the emotions shining inside. Shock followed by wide eyed delight and then shattering bliss. Malcolm smiles in happiness, his inhibitions fucked out of him.

"That's it, baby. Shit," growls JT. He uses Malcolm's limp body to jerk off. He's dripping with sweat when he crushes Malcolm to his chest and releases a mighty load of cum. Malcolm shakes around him, sensitive and intensely reactive to each hot spill. When JT softens, the cum trickles inside Malcolm, pooling where it is momentarily plugged by JT's natural thickness.

Their kiss is sloppy, sour, and bitter. 

“Oh God, we need water.” 

“Most def, baby.” JT moves him onto his back, careful not to jostle. Malcolm closes his legs but it’s too late for the hapless cushion as cum pours from Malcolm’s loose pink hole.

“Am I bleeding? Feels like it,” says Malcolm, sounding not particularly bothered.

“I roughed you up a little. It’s not too red,” answers JT. “I’ll get you some water after I wash my dick. See how you feel after. I wouldn’t try to sit.”

“No,” laughs Malcolm. He rolls onto his side, thighs shut, head bobbing up to sip from a plastic cup which JT brings him after JT washes up. The clink of ice cubes sounds as good as the water feels on his tongue. He openly stares at JT’s cock, with no small amount of disbelief.

“What is it?”

“I’m a little proud of myself. Sue me,” says Malcolm. He doesn’t hesitate when JT’s cock once more brushes his lips. JT hisses from the cold but Malcolm warms up quickly enough as he mouths just the tip, tonguing the slit for more cum. Most of the awful tasting lube thickened lower on JT’s cock.

Gerard and Marsh nearly kick in the front door with Todd’s wasted form slumped between them. JT salutes Marsh who rolls his eyes before narrowing them at Malcolm. Todd stumbles past the couch, totally inebriated. Todd’s buddies let him negotiate the stairs like a grown man. Left to his own devices, Todd sits on the lower steps and pillows his face on his arms.

“Hit the showers, Tarmel. We’ll look after your friend,” says Marsh.

“What happened to you shooting pool with Miss Daisy Dukes?” says JT.

“She didn’t want my balls in her holes,” says Marsh.

Gerard’s surly look stymies any smart alecky questions JT had.

“Dude, he’s right there,” says JT. “Malcolm, you good with them?”

Malcolm blinks sleepily. “I don’t mind new friends.”

Gerard has nothing on JT in terms of girth; for a guy swinging ten inches, he’s short on patience. Lighter in build than Marsh and more agile, Gerard gets his trousers down and mounts himself between Malcolm’s legs. Velcro rips before Gerard tosses his combat jacket and bites the hem of his tan shirt between his teeth. He swipes the lube. It’s still cold when Gerard rolls Malcolm onto his stomach, spreads him with his thumbs, and pushes into Malcolm like a corkscrew.

“Malcolm?” says JT curtly.

“I’m good, JT. This is good,” says Malcolm, catching his breath. He humps the leather, luxuriating in his cock tapping the smooth upholstery cool against his feverish skin.

“You love it, don’t you, whore?” urges Gerard. He grabs the back of Malcolm’s brown hair darkened by sweat. Gerard’s camel brown boot is flat on the floor as he pistons his hips. Gerard’s dog tags hang down and clink from his jerky motions. Gerard groans from the slick wet noises of fucking into Malcolm’s fresh creamy hole. Once Gerard gets in halfway, he strokes the base and the lower shaft of his cock and plays with his balls. He thrusts his fleshy head in and out of Malcolm’s ass while he squeezes Malcolm’s legs together. Malcolm gasps and whimpers each time Gerard catches his rim, releasing a mangled cry and bucking frantically when Gerard’s cock prods his p spot. The leather squeals beneath them, glued to Malcolm’s skin which is also chafed by Gerard’s rumpled trousers. All the while, JT’s cum dribbles in-between Malcolm’s thighs, heated by the friction of Gerard’s cock.

Marsh strokes his own cock before he curls his giant sunbaked and freckled hand under Malcolm’s chin. Marsh’s cock is an average size and slightly fuller than Gerard’s dick, but it hooks toward his groin. His cockhead is brick red. Malcolm only has the wherewithal to tilt his head and manage a decent angle for Marsh to fuck his throat. The orange hair on Marsh’s pasty leg is soft against Malcolm’s chin and jaw but Malcolm’s throat isn’t a happy fit to Marsh’s cock. Malcolm whimpers a weak protest as he is shoved face first onto Marsh’s cock and hauled back by Gerard’s thin hands sharp on his hips.

“Fuck you, Corporal! Sir. Who fuckin cleaned up for Todd tonight?” shouts Gerard tersely, in a hurry to get off.

“I could do with my cock warmed,” fires back Marsh. Alcohol isn’t so much a lubricant as it is gasoline.

“You guys need to play nicer. Look at the poor kid,” says JT, stepping in. His large hand rubs down Malcolm’s back and gently squeezes his neck. 

“Turn me around. I can suck off the angry one. Let me,” Malcolm pleads hoarsely.

“Y’all are assholes. Just do what he wants or do I need to take away the goods?” says JT.

“We’ll stop taking it out on the kid,” agrees Marsh.

Gerard briefly disappears to rinse off his cock.

Malcolm gets on his knees and braces his arms on the hard frame within the back of the leather sectional. Marsh's softer middle presses Malcolm's lower back before he slaps his damp cock onto Malcolm's ass. Marsh's hand covers Malcolm's throat.

"You're going to love me in the back of you," says Marsh. He groans as he sinks in without obstacle. His grip on Malcolm's throat tightens before he works his hips in quick circles that tenderize Malcolm's insides.

Despite his temper, Gerard’s handsome face is fair on the eyes. Malcolm laps at Gerard’s shaft, humming around his length, cheeks hollowed in as he hungrily sucks. Malcolm loves how the tension and the fight drains out of Gerard’s mouth which slackens more and more as Malcolm’s tongue swirls and flicks with each head bob. Gerard also gets off on smashing Malcolm’s pretty face into his groin. The hazel starbursts in Gerard’s green eyes become more apparent as he stares in helpless wonder before shooting hard and fast. 

Malcolm moans in genuine pleasure as Marsh grabs Malcolm’s ankles and grinds his ass with slower and deeper thrusts, a sweet echo of the moment when JT’s cock broke Malcolm. Malcolm freezes when Marsh pinches his airways a beat too long. Malcolm sucks in air, but gets a hit of Gerard's bitter seed rising in his throat. Marsh squeezes Malcolm's neck and Malcolm instinctively tries to buck him off. Then the heat from Marsh's spend spreads in Malcolm's ass and ripples throughout Malcolm's body, triggering release that takes the last of Malcolm's strength and draws out thin, milky cum. His hips jerk from Gerard pinching his nipples just to be a bastard.

Malcolm regrets his night terrors the most when it’s time for him to call up a late night cab. He has to go back and take his medications and wear his mouth guard and an actual shirt. Rather than explain that he’s a headcase, Malcolm simply tells JT that he doesn’t fall asleep with anyone. JT still waits outside with him in boxers and a T-shirt and they spray each other with bug repellant. When the cab pulls up, JT kisses Malcolm and spanks the seat of his shorts. 

“Get your ass back here in the AM,” says JT. “Bring a toothbrush.”

“I don’t do sleepovers,” says Malcolm, with no small amount of remorse.

“Who says we’ll let you sleep?” retorts JT. “Yeah, you heard me. We will not let you sleep when you come back for more.”

“Right. Toothbrush,” agrees Malcolm. He does the walk of shame (shamelessly) to the cab.

* * *

He deletes the one word drunk texts from Vijay before he cuffs himself to the guest bed in his family's timeshare. Malcolm has trouble keeping his eyes closed before he sighs and checks his new voicemail.

"Malcolm, my boy, I was thinking about collecting you at the end of your semester and spoiling you for a bit. Give me your thoughts. Alpha over and out."

Malcolm hits call and leaves a short message.

"Yes, Martin. Maybe you'll fall in love. In Boston. Omega out."

* * *

“What do you think?” asks JT. They are outside airing out in the tall fenced yard with a legume shaped blue pool and green hedges acting as natural privacy screens. The early birds chirp. JT smells like coffee. His face is damp from wetting Malcolm's ass with his tongue.

"It's nice," says Malcolm absentmindedly.

Malcolm rests against a vertical decorative metal rail, steadying himself as he raises the arch of his left foot on a concrete pool deck. JT extends Malcolm’s right leg to the side and seats his cock fully into Malcolm’s slick and relaxed hole. His thick arm is a well-cushioned bar across Malcolm’s chest, hugging Malcolm to JT’s bare skin, before JT rubs at Malcolm’s cheek playfully.

“I can’t believe you get chin hairs,” comments JT.

“Do you mind the scruff?” says Malcolm.

“You’re smooth where it counts,” says JT. “Your ass feels like pussy done right.”

Malcolm swallows a scream when JT raises Malcolm’s right leg, his cum streaked thigh pressing his obliques. JT pumps harder, fucking deeper with Malcolm balanced wide and open. The dog tags stick to the shaking frame of Malcolm’s body.

“Oh, fuck,” mutters Malcolm. He loves the stretch, lives for the indescribable fit, but the sensation of a stronger man overpowering him nearly sends him. He focuses on his hands clenched and throbbing around twisted metal rails. His foot scrapes the porous hard concrete.

Gerard, in swim trunks, breaks down a cardboard box which they used to carry their groceries. He flattens the cardboard and then stands on it before he grabs Malcolm's balls swinging through the metal rail and sucks Malcolm's cock.

Todd surfaces from the pool, his arm splashing in the water, tags flashing in the sun, when he sees what his buddies get up to.

Marsh checks the temperature of the roaster cooking their BBQ meats. Then Marsh sprawls in an Adirondack chair and smokes while leisurely stroking off to the bagpipe medley playing from Todd's fancy portable speakers and the cadence of JT railing Malcolm. 

Malcolm whines, squirming to keep his dick from scraping the metal rail with Gerard's hot mouth on him. Gerard stops blowing Malcolm and switches to tugging at Malcolm's cock; looks at Malcolm with an almost belligerent arrogance when Malcolm moans and comes on Gerard's gummy palm. 

"Hey JT, your aftershave smells like ass. It's almost an improvement," says Gerard. Gerard wipes the jizz onto Malcolm before he struts to the diving board.

"He a mean spitball," says JT. JT and Malcolm simultaneously eyefuck Gerard's lean body cutting the water. "But you can't get rid of him once you're friends. I'mma go dunk him for you."

JT wades into the pool and then he teaches Gerard a lesson about treating guests better; Gerard cusses and snorts up water as the lesson takes.

When it's Marsh's turn, he gets Malcolm arched in a head stand, swollen asshole displayed in a creamy split and legs flexed on the armrests of the deck chair. Marsh takes his time poking the meat, amused by the abdominal and thigh muscles straining and jumping so responsively to his big knuckled sausage fingers. Malcolm's cock bobs and smacks his stomach as Marsh plays with him. 

The chair thumps the concrete as Marsh hooks a curved dick into Malcolm's p spot and drills him, cum running along the crevice of his ass, cum down his groin, thick white leaking onto Malcolm's neck when Marsh floods him. Marsh squeezes the "V" of Malcolm's legs as he sweats his release. "You need more sun to fix your tan lines, boyo." Marsh looks like a hypocritical lobster himself. He grabs Malcolm by his pits and holds Malcolm's neck for a cum stained nicotine kiss.

* * *

Once the soldiers get some ass, they’re all wanting pussy. Malcolm is not complaining with JT keeping him warm after sunset at a beach party bonfire. Gerard turns on the charm for a curly haired brunette. He went swimming with Christine hours ago. Marsh snores, rump in the sand, his back against a petrified wood stump, empty bottle swallowed up by his ham fist. Todd spins a branch into the bonfire, seemingly preoccupied with his charred and bubbling hot dogs but he glances in JT and Malcolm’s direction often. JT snags what he and Malcolm assume to be a portable couch pumped full of air. Their couch squeaks when they move too much (“Sounds like two balloon animals humping away,” says JT). JT and Malcolm are too far from the yellow-orange glow of the bonfire to see anything but each other. 

JT sinks into the squeaky plastic couch, holding Malcolm who is sprawled between his thighs. In a pink tank top and gray swim trunks, only JT’s trim physique and his ramrod posture on the dumb couch indicate his military status. Malcolm is a bit cold in his navy speedos but he leaves his Bermuda print shirt flapped open because he likes how JT’s arms feel on his body, moving restlessly as the ocean tides. 

“Between you, Gerard, and your other team mate, you have the best rapport with your Corporal,” says Malcolm.

“Me and Marsh don’t have problems, no,” says JT. “He doesn’t joke around which is why he’ll be a sergeant in no time.”

“He’s muscle. Strong, but rigid. Marsh is the type who does best in rank and file. He’s focused and methodical but doesn’t question orders. I imagine that Marsh is only ever anxious when he deals with a soldier like Gerard,” says Malcolm.

“Gerard? He bitches, but he’s harmless,” says JT.

“He presents that way, yes,” says Malcolm. “The comments that he’s made towards me, however, are markers of aggression. He may have a clear background now, having passed screenings, but he’s a moderate to high risk of committing a violent criminal act.”

“That’s what our unit’s good for. Acts of violence in battle,” says JT.

“It’s the personal nature of his aggressive remarks though. Followed by his subsequent indifference to the person he verbally attacks. Surely you’ve noticed,” says Malcolm.

“That’s why I won’t let him fuck you again,” replies JT. He nuzzles behind Malcolm’s ear and slides his hands into Malcolm’s speedos. “Sweet little ass. Hot lips. Deep tight throat. You should only get lovin’, little boy.”

JT’s cock flattens the crevice of Malcolm’s ass. JT is so thick that Malcolm’s buttocks push apart as though Malcolm is backing his ass up against a metal pole. JT’s palm covers Malcolm’s balls as he slides two then three fingers inside a slick and pliant hole.

“Right now, JT? But the party’s still-- ah!” Malcolm’s lips stretch as JT curls his hand, opening Malcolm wider and deeper.

“Party’s right here. I just need to get in where you are,” says JT. His other hand strokes down Malcolm’s pounding chest, rubbing Malcolm’s belly and petting Malcolm’s thigh muscles which obey more readily after numerous rounds of passion.

“We don’t have lube,” objects Malcolm.

JT sucks on Malcolm’s ear and reminds him to relax. Malcolm’s speedos tangle around his ankle gritty from sand. Malcolm almost purrs when his exposed skin presses JT’s nude lower body.

JT’s arm is like iron, easing Malcolm’s calf up to shoulder level and locking Malcolm into position. All Malcolm can do is follow JT’s lead. Malcolm loops his arms backward, fingers laced behind JT’s sturdy neck. JT kisses his upper arms. Then he squeezes Malcolm’s waist in a slow crush. Malcolm’s doesn’t realize what’s happening until he is dripping cum from his hole. He can smell the men who used him and taste JT in the back of his throat. 

The fat and blunt head of JT’s cock circles his rim, gathering spend. He smothers Malcolm’s lips and lifts Malcolm bodily to greater heights before letting go. Malcolm's own weight leaves him skewered on his lover’s cock. Malcolm's chest heaves, feeling too full, unable to scream from JT's cock pounding the breath out of him. He's been fucked loose, freeing him from any stinging or burning pain which would limit the peak of his impending orgasm. Malcolm cries his face wet to cope with the sensational overload of day old cum streaking his legs from JT's fast and hard pace. Fucking into him with enough power to keep Malcolm bouncing.

JT traps Malcolm's leg, showing off his darker colored cock slotted between Malcolm's rosy red butt cheeks glazed by generous loads of cum.

"JT, people are stopping," whines Malcolm. His hands aren't free to cover his face contorted by extreme pleasure. He moans through bitten lips. "JT!"

"I'm not stopping. Not stopping, baby. Gonna tear you up," grunts JT. His nose and mouth smooch Malcolm's tearful face. His breath heats the sweat on Malcolm's neck. Malcolm's core muscles tense, makes his body curve into a tight line but JT puts a filthy hand under Malcolm's clenched cheek and rocks Malcolm harder onto his pumping hips. Malcolm's balls tap skin and another thread of his cum trickles on the dark tufts of hair lining Malcolm's navel.

"Oh shit. Whitly?"

Malcolm's jaw clenches hard, rendering him speechless as his softened cock sticks to his bent leg.

"Dude, whoa. Nice one."

"Who the fuck--" growls JT.

"JT, I know him," says Malcolm.

JT reluctantly slows his thrusts and cradles Malcolm more possessively. He hasn't come yet and doesn't welcome the interruption.

"Can I fucking help you?" says JT in a tone which demands prompt and precise answers only.

"Easy, JT," begs Malcolm. JT slackens his grip on Malcolm's leg and ass though his cock maintains its hardness. Malcolm gasps as he sinks more heavily, the base of JT's cock pushing into his anus. Malcolm is stretched to the point that he can feel the veins of JT's cock pulsing in time to his strong heartbeat.

"Vijay, I'm busy," snaps Malcolm.

"Can I get busy with you two?" asks Vijay. His voice drops a few octaves. "Is there room for me."

JT checks out Vijay who is tall with strong shoulders proportionate to his trim waistline. Malcolm grips his cock, oddly turned on from how JT keeps grinding his ass, using him, while giving Vijay a death glare.

"Whip it out, man," says JT.

Vijay pulls off his graphic V neck shirt and his trunks, bunching his clothes in his fists. He stands about 6 inches hard. His skin is black except for his leather banded diamond watch.

"Body's tight. That should work," says JT.

"Good," says Vijay. As he approaches Malcolm, he tosses his clothes onto the squeaky blow up couch and then he brings his cock to Malcolm's face.

Vijay's head drops back with Malcolm's soft lips wrapped around his cock. JT releases Malcolm's leg and unlaces Malcolm's fingers from his neck. His hands band around Malcolm's forearms. Malcolm falls forward, only for Vijay to grab his chin and his hair. Vijay flattens Malcolm onto his cock. Malcolm chokes and swallows desperately to breathe.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck his face again," says JT.

Malcolm clenches harder, writhing for his next breath, screaming around black cock when Vijay pinches his nose.

"Fuck. Yes. Pop that ass for me, baby," groans JT. He tugs Malcolm's arms, jolting Malcolm's shoulders when he thrusts in earnest. Malcolm's face gets slapped each time Vijay hits the back of his throat. Vijay's pace is slower than JT who is jackhammering away.

"Hey, Army. Spit roasting nice, but what you think about double peen?" says Vijay. He fists both hands in Malcolm's hair, hissing when Malcolm sucks the tip harder.

"If you can't get in there, you have to wait for me to bust a nut first," answers JT. He pauses and lets go of Malcolm's arms before wiping his sweaty face with the backs of his hand. "I think he can do it. I've been breaking him in."

"Let's do it," says Vijay.

Malcolm is not consulted for his opinion as to the use of his body. JT slides halfway out, spreading around more cum and lube from earlier misadventures. JT picks up Malcolm who weakly swings his legs when JT spins him like a drill. Malcolm's knees squeak on the inflated couch. Malcolm grabs JT's torso before his fingers pop the couch full of air.

"That's it. Hang tight," encourages JT.

Malcolm is told to slobber all over Vijay's dick.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's a good thing I'm not monster huge," says Vijay. He rubs his cock, satisfied with the wet glide of his fingers. A string of saliva hangs between Vijay's cockhead and Malcolm's chin before Malcolm sucks Vijay's fingers.

"Damn. You could get a beer can up there now, Whitly. I remember when I had to take my time with you," says Vijay.

"Oh, so you know each other like that," says JT. He quiets down when Vijay's finger strokes his balls and then plays around Malcolm's damp hole.

Vijay laughs from Malcolm's writhing movements. "You're gonna open up for me, baby boy. Think about me and Army doing the Eiffel Tower in Florida. Bet you never thought of that."

"Eiffel Tower?"

"Yeah. We high five up top," explains Vijay. He asks for JT's name.

"Vijay!" groans Malcolm.

"One and a half fingers. Do you feel me, too, JT?" asks Vijay. He makes himself comfortable, pressing his muscular chest into Malcolm's back. Vijay hugs Malcolm's shoulder.

"You think you can stroke me inside Malcolm's ass?" asks JT.

"Fuck. I will now," says Vijay determinedly. He lets go of Malcolm to crouch low and tongue at Malcolm's ass, licking more wetness for his probing fingers.

Malcolm and JT react to Vijay's goatee hairs brushing their skin.

"That's a lot of nut," says Vijay. "Baby boy, you… feel very tender."

Malcolm cries out when Vijay curls his fingers around JT's cock. Vijay shushes him and pats his back. "You're doing great so far. You can take more. You want more, don't you baby boy?"

"Yes," pants Malcolm.

Vijay pinches his cheek. "Yes, what?"

Malcolm's breathing stops.

JT speaks up. "What the-- are you blushing? I can't see it but you're embarrassed. Tryna hide your face at night."

"We're good, Whitly. You know what I like to hear when it's you and me," says Vijay. He squeezes JT's cock and for Malcolm, it feels like a fisting.

"Big Poppa!" cries Malcolm, louder from the stretch.

"Aw, yeah. I love it when you call me that," says Vijay. "Just be my baby boy and take Big Poppa's cock like you're having my freak nasty baby babies."

"What the fuck," says JT when Malcolm spaces his knees out more and spreads his ass for Vijay to thrust his hand deeper.

"The words don't mean shit. It's how you say it. I'll say anything to make baby boy happy," says Vijay. "You want Big Poppa to nut on GI Joe's cock?"

"Yes, Big Poppa," says Malcolm, shuddering. His face feels hot like a steamed red beet but he opens up for Vijay when Vijay squeezes the fleshy head of his cock into Malcolm's cum slicked blown out hole and then Vijay jerks his shaft twitching inside Malcolm.

JT pumps his hips despite the incredulous tilt of his brow. His face screws up when his cock slides along Vijay's, pulling them deeper and stretching Malcolm beyond his rim already pulled apart and plugged by Vijay's added girth.

"It feels like three inside, don't it?" says JT. When JT moves, it's Vijay's turn to groan as he tries not to come too quick. "I'm as thick as two."

"I'll have more nut for you than JT," promises Vijay.

Malcolm wants to laugh over how the men sharing him are oddly competitive though they are in the same tight spot.

Vijay bites and sucks Malcolm's neck, hard enough to bruise. Malcolm can't stop him because JT is quicker to claim his lips. Malcolm's blood rushes with Vijay's teeth marking him and JT's tongue pooling more soft heat in his mouth.

"Which of us is getting you off, baby?" asks JT. "You like it thick like me or quick like him?"

"Ah," mumbles Malcolm, caught between Vijay's hand tickling his happy trail and JT's hand palming his ass. "I love both. I can't come anymore. But it's worse if you don't keep fucking me. Keep it up. Fuck me up."

"Ask nicer," says JT, swatting his face. Malcolm whimpers when JT slows to a grind.

"No, please. Please give me more. I need thick. I love your fat cock. It makes me full."

"Such a slut," says Vijay. He pinches Malcolm's nipple and roughly pulls on Malcolm's dick. "I'm right here and you're begging for the other guy's dick? I'm fucking. You. Right here." Each pause is punctuated by the push of his hips, rubbing himself along JT's hard-on buried in Malcolm's warm and wet hole.

"Big Poppa," he moans.

Facial hair scratches Malcolm's neck. A man's low voice fills his ears, entering his heady mind with the promise of ecstasy. Malcolm is taken firmly in hand and smacked when he tries to control his body's arousal or to shy away from a steep edge that will bring a deeper fall into sin.

"Show me that you love me, my boy," hears Malcolm.

Malcolm fights to open his eyes and he gratefully drinks in the sight and the feel of so much rich supple brown skin wrapped around him and slamming into him. 

"Oh, thank fuck," says Malcolm. He smiles as he lustily begs for Big Poppa. Relief draws Malcolm out of his worries and in his unguarded moment, Malcolm comes so hard that he sees starbursts in the midnight canopy spread over their vigorous tangle of limbs.

"Fuck, baby. You made a fuckin mess on me," curses JT. Malcolm's cum glistens white on JT's dark skin and curly body hair.

Vijay valiantly pumps through Malcolm's orgasm but he stills his movements and wraps his arm around Malcolm's neck.

"I'm coming. You better tell me what's up," says Vijay, rocking his hips. His thrusts get more shallow as he focuses on Malcolm's clenched muscles squeezing his cockhead.

"My ass…" Malcolm trails off, once more embarrassed with JT to witness what's next.

"Baby boy," growls Vijay. His fingers squeeze Malcolm's chin. "Forget the Ivy League bullshit. You know what to do."

"Sorry, Big Poppa. My ass drinks Big Poppa's milk," says Malcolm, shivering as his utterance causes Vijay to grab his waist and slam Malcolm onto both cocks hooking him front and back.

"Goddamn," says JT. His thrusts pick up speed as well with Vijay spilling all over his own cock. "Y'all weirdos but it fuckin works?" JT shakes off his confusion and gets to work, pumping his hips until fresh cum drips out of Malcolm's wet gape where Vijay slid out. Malcolm reaches behind and catches some on his fingers. He cleans off his fingers and licks at his own cum painted around JT's bellybutton.

Malcolm groans when Vijay pulls at his fucked out hole. He stifles a shout when JT plunges his fingers alongside Vijay's. They shake hands inside Malcolm's ass.

JT rolls his eyes but he consents to post sexing high fives all around. "Just how fucking high are you, Vijay?"

"I'm on Cloud 9, muthafucka."

Malcolm dozes off and wakes up by himself on what appears to be a pool floaty shaped like a green dinosaur in the weak morning sun. Malcolm looks down at his nude body and is almost pleased when he notices the worst of his tan lines have abated. Turning over is a mistake when he sits up on his sore ass. His legs are bruised and there's a large red handprint on the back of his leg that's fever hot to the touch.

Vijay snoozes passed out on the sand, his clothes bunched over his head to block out the light. He is bare bottomed but keeps his dick tucked in.

JT comes over bearing two glasses topped with vibrant fruit juice. "I had to wait until the first stall opened. Smoothie?"

"I'll take it before I become one giant cramp," says Malcolm. He looks at JT after the first fruity sip because he tastes the alcohol. "Does this smoothie bar sell bottled water?"

"Oh yeah, they're spiked. Vacation protocol," says JT, deadpan. "Hold these." He foists the alcoholic beverages onto Malcolm.

"O...kay?" says Malcolm.

JT bends down and gives Malcolm a cool and fruity kiss. "I'll get you the fancy Fuji water, baby. You earned it."

"Wait, JT."

"Yeah?"

"Did we really have a threesome on a ginormous horny dino pool floaty?"

"If you count the smiley dinosaur, I'd say it was a foursome. Squeak squeak squeak," teases JT.

Malcolm is irritated by how fresh JT looks compared to how trashed he feels.

"Tell you what. I'll grab a tall cold bottle apiece for you and Big Poppa," says JT, snickering.

"I will finish my drink and yours if you don't fetch me my water," threatens Malcolm. 

Malcolm finds his speedo hiding under the pool floaty. Malcolm nurses the cold bottle against his throbbing head, and sneakily sits it between his legs to JT's smug bemusement.

Vijay empties and crushes the water when Malcolm pokes him. Vijay's eyes are bloodshot and he's dying to sleep off his own misadventures in an air conditioned bedroom before a rendezvous with Jin.

"Baby boy, you better not sneak back to New York this summer without saying hey," warns Vijay. "Me and Jin have to find Javier before fucking takeoff. Javier could be back in Cuba for all I know."

"Best of luck to you," says JT, crossing his arms. The way his muscles flex distracts Malcolm. "Don't even try it, boy. I only high five for special occasions."

Malcolm focuses on Vijay's crestfallen pout, amused by Vijay's hand hanging from up high. Vijay drags Malcolm in front of JT and hugs one arm across Malcolm, hand stubbornly aloft. 

"Consider this a hostage situation," says Malcolm blandly. "He really will not let go unless you give him a high five. Or a bagel."

"Geez Louise. You look like you're waiting on Hitler," gripes JT. He slaps down Vijay's hand.

"That was weak sauce, soldier. But like I need to find bagels. Stat. Call me, baby boy!" says Vijay, in parting. He kisses the hickey on Malcolm's neck.

Malcolm and JT talk on the sand, swim when the water's warm, eat boardwalk fare, and sip booze. When JT massages Malcolm's leg, he matches his palm and fingers to the red handprint slightly faded on Malcolm's skin. Malcolm sucks on an orange wedge garnishing his signature cocktail and shimmies a little to a promiscuous pop song played by college girls who look like clones with their tans and bottle blond hair. The back and forth of watching and touching ignites the booze in their veins.

They lose track of their lawn chairs and wind up twisting their beach towels on the sand. Todd finds them with Marsh in tow. Marsh is watered, fed, and slathered in aloe. Marsh and Todd, in the spirit of teamwork, get their hands on Malcolm, lifting him up by his bent legs with JT standing at attention and swelling thick in Malcolm's ass. Because they're in broad daylight, JT hustles, jerking himself and reserving the loud ass clapping for the moment when he fills Malcolm again, hot and quick. 

JT's cum slicks the way for Marsh. Marsh gets Malcolm's legs hanging off his arms with Todd's help. Malcolm pulls at his own hair, clamping his mouth shut with Marsh squatting and grunting behind him, lifting Malcolm into a spread eagle in flight. JT gets on his knees and strokes off Malcolm, briefly lipping Malcolm's flushed cock before he makes Malcolm come all over himself. Marsh staggers from Malcolm tightening around him and milking his crooked dick.

Todd wanks off, eager to come inside Malcolm and unload his pent-up energy. But then along come the local cops sweeping the beach. Malcolm gets busted for public nudity while the Army soldiers make way for the authorities and tuck their cocks back into their swimwear. Todd's eyes water in the harsh sun blazing overhead as his hopes evaporate into wisps of hot air.

"Private Tarmel? Does Camp Blanding ring a bell?" says one cop. He removes his sunglasses and squints at JT.

"Small world, Arroyo!! Never thought I'd see you again. Definitely not while you're on the job," says JT. His pitch raises in recognition and surprise. 

"Likewise. Caught you with your pants down, no less," says the officer. He is darker tan than JT with a short black goatee on his long face. His hair shines black and wavy over his glistening brow.

JT shrugs off his embarrassment. He introduces the cop as an acquaintance who he knows from Camp Blanding, a U.S. training base for military and Florida policemen. "This is Gil. He and I ran across each other when he was Mr. Junior Cop. That Pontiac of yours still grumbling?"

"Don't pick on my ride, young man," says Gil.

"Well then, don't pick on what I'm riding," says JT pointedly. They both look at Malcolm who, to his credit, wears a confident smile (and not much else).

“Where you from, kid?” asks Officer Gil.

“New York City," answers Malcolm.

“Me, too. World gets smaller every day. Come with me, city boy. Hate to break up the fun, gentlemen, but you all are indecent," says Officer Gil amusedly.

“Gil, man, not all of us had a turn. We might not get lucky again," says JT. His buddies join in a mild protest. They're not yet toasted enough to fight a cop.

“You’re lucky I’m not calling it in at your base,” says Officer Gil to JT as he cuffs Malcolm’s hands from behind. 

“Where are his clothes?” sighs Officer Gil. He shakes his head when Malcolm’s shirt and speedos stay missing despite the scrabble for clothes. Malcolm requests help finding his phone. JT asks Malcolm for his number; JT dials Malcolm’s cell, excavates it from the sand, and dangles the buzzing phone teasingly. An ocean breeze tousles Malcolm's hair which curls from saltwater. The sun kisses Malcolm's skin, naked except for Officer Gil’s handcuffs.

“I’ll take that,” says Officer Gil, swiping the device belonging to Malcolm.

JT takes his chance for one more kiss. The ends of Malcolm's hair curl around JT's fingers as he crushes Malcolm's lips and paws at Malcolm's ass. Malcolm's chest smacks into JT's solid bulk warming him up like hot sand. Malcolm breaks it off for another long look at JT before the strapping tall soldier hits foreign soil. Malcolm can't think of a better farewell.

The party is over but Malcolm regrets nothing about serving the troops. Officer Gil's hand firmly grasps Malcolm's nape to keep Malcolm from bumping his head on the police cruiser. His dorm mates Cal and Liam (and Sunshine) will have to fly back home without him. With a delicious shiver down his spine, Malcolm wonders how he’ll explain the criminal charges to his family and what his father will do to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series is titled "A Short Trip to Hell." Malcolm and his college friends vacation together in Orlando, FL in the Whitly family's timeshare. Doctor Whitly is also in Orlando for a conference. Malcolm saves his dumbass pal Vijay from getting serial killed. Dubcon explicit Brightly.
> 
> Part 3 of 3 of the "Cocktales" series is titled "Suck, Bang, and Blow." Bratty Malcolm catches beating from cop during spring break vacay. Extreme dubcon Broyo. "Suck, Bang, and Blow" is not meant to be read stand alone. Fic is a dark continuation of "A Short Trip to Hell" (dubcon Brightly) and "Sex on the Beach" (Brimel). Do not read "Suck, Bang, and Blow" if you're not into Brightly, dark Gil or extremely dubious consent for Broyo pairing. Though Martin will not be appearing in "Suck, Bang, and Blow", the Brightly incest elements are turned the hell up. Parent/child incest is a major topic. Gil displays bad BDSM etiquette. Gil makes use of humiliation, disrespectful speech, object penetration, and rough blowjob. Abuse of authority, power imbalance, bad cop feels are also potential triggers. In this AU, Malcolm does not see Gil as parental figure nor would Gil see Malcolm as his kid. Malcolm doesn't say "No" or "Stop", but Gil doesn't ask nicely either.


	2. The One that got away - m4m

[CL](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philip_Markoff) [orlando](https://64.media.tumblr.com/27ab56de75fcc3d9b74d277c096f79fb/27107959ee87c972-e2/s540x810/92583a1b34bdad4d3addca6f68eafb8e525e74cf.jpg) > [community](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5608cae5caa00dbfc47cf6b9d006db8a/27107959ee87c972-74/s540x810/5dadf6de8cf02395f20c8a2e5ff5657af62b38f0.png) > [missed connections](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9eadfa18221556fdc04f3492db4aa9be/27107959ee87c972-43/s540x810/a83a8892751cf0354ec0db51c9fba73b4316e7bb.jpg) > [The One that got away](https://64.media.tumblr.com/989b4273b3ff3aa76a4ed7b3057a4c8b/27107959ee87c972-db/s500x750/ce199a30ffa1cd8bb135eb10e30db2f1bf07a0de.jpg) \- [m](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0b4b2f5636fd58e8affc65bf35fb3502/669bcaee4a855a83-f5/s540x810/20274e8163cfaabb4d7e5354edac5a15c3ee7ee1.jpg)[4](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cdb15c29d28a7e413cd73b8ed465bcad/669bcaee4a855a83-27/s540x810/d7b3668ae7fee1f6e9c4da10df8099ada4582b44.jpg)[m](https://64.media.tumblr.com/de28fef77e86fcf5b33664f8d044063f/669bcaee4a855a83-9b/s540x810/e5f901fd1d0b5ccf8866ddb73d5ad63cc37436e2.jpg)

Originally Posted: 2006-03-16 01:23

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[ [reply](https://64.media.tumblr.com/bebf80633a5fc64bd47347cfca299254/2035784df4d45204-8a/s540x810/63f9ad0a27ba4636518fc52bdd563384484849eb.jpg) ] [☆](https://64.media.tumblr.com/3e89de683d52fd752590dd28d9dd3867/06b4c4222f04280c-10/s540x810/a3266c312979f85b1118c869f49e638bea16fccb.jpg) [❌](https://64.media.tumblr.com/a2fe109f40444c833e73160612d41285/be5478b5b5ae0f6c-76/s540x810/5d0410c083467dfdd62064f7cbb1d62e131721bc.jpg) [🏳](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1de0aa85e78ac578681e1363e47d6126/369bc5bea3d25168-e7/s540x810/34e950d9b5d25d9433711a18691dc2906add7606.jpg)

####  **The One that got away (Orlando) - m4m**

You danced at The Stud. Rocked me like a hurricane. Your eyes the color of teh sea after a storm. Your smile unforgetable. Your beautiful. I saw your face in a crowded place. I didnt know what to do. We had 3 days with friends but I didnt shoot my shot. Please email if you remember me too ( pic4pic) , We can conversate if your comfortable talking to me for real. I want to hear your thoughts about life the universe what you believe in... Love, actually. If it was never meant to be......Well always have the Spring. :'^) -Love, T

• do NOT contact me with unsolicited services or offers

post id: 86753099 posted: 14 years ago

updated: 9 min ago [email to friend](https://64.media.tumblr.com/92eac5e61fff8c0ae6ae05dfa66d7cd0/78d5ccd622490936-e1/s1280x1920/77d0463a5d2eeaebb6c84fcb48a7a3e37b3a8a50.jpg)

[❤](https://64.media.tumblr.com/065219995d63f1777c54d6061dd80a25/77cb6cc23624d4c0-38/s540x810/3bb14dc74010734affc1d62692b9a31a64ca8225.jpg) [best of [?]](https://www.craigslist.org/about/best/all/mis/)

© 2020 CL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KateSamantha, holla! A personal ad on Craigslist, also her idea.
> 
> I guess this post is kind of a fic spoiler? Todd made it out of Afghanistan even though he left his heart in Florida. 
> 
> As for JT, Gil, Dani, & Edrisa. In 2020, can't rule anything out lolsob. In a timeline where Author writes this AU Shitstorm, I would dub this series....wait for it.... Peñis Coladas. This is why KateSamantha should name my abominations.


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